


A Little Bit of Crazy

by Marely4



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Flash - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archangels, Bad Parent John Winchester, Barry Allen is The Flash, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Dead, Mental Institutions, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Jason, Sam Winchester Has Powers, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-20 16:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15538557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marely4/pseuds/Marely4
Summary: Sam Winchester is used to seeing things others don't. What he isn't used to is seeing ghosts. When he finds himself in a mental institution he thinks that now he's officially gone crazy. Only he finds out that things aren't always what they seem. And people even less so.Or: The one where a few of our favourite superheroes meet in a mental hospital – only they are no heroes. Or are they?





	1. In which things get started

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was just a fun idea I had. I've read quite a few stories where Sam and Dean are actually crazy and I kind of wanted a go at it. It just so happened, that the other superheroes on my mind slipped into this story. But I have to warn you. This is a twisted mess of jumbled timelines and really far from anything canon. I mean, I guess there are some snippets you are going to recognise. But if you are looking for something only slightly AU you might want to skip this one ;).  
> I'm not even sure how much sense this will make to anyone who isn't me. I simply couldn't resist this though.  
> Also, English isn't my first language, so please bear with me. Comments and critisism are always welcome though.  
> Please enjoy :)

It's only my forth day here and half an hour after lunch when he first comes in. He is following Phil, one of the orderlies and looks very uncomfortable. His shoulders are hunched and his eyes keep darting around the room, but what registers first is how skinny he is. I mean, he is wearing a giant shirt and baggy pants so it's really not possible to see it that way. Usually clothes like that point to an eating disorder or scars that have to be hidden … Or both, now that I come to think about it.

Anyway … he is skinny _that_ way. You know – the way that it shows on the face. These sunken in, big eyes and sharp edges around the chin and cheekbones. He is skinny enough for an eating disorder. Which is something I haven't really thought about much before. There are a lot of skinny kids here though. Most of them are anorexic, some bulimic - apparently. 

But there are others too. Peter Parker for example. He is as skinny as the next anorexic kid and I guess you could say that he has an eating disorder, but that's really not the problem here. He ist paranoid and delusional, I guess. Not that anyone has told me his diagnosis and I'm not really well informed or anything.  
But I mean, anorexic people don't usually think their food is poisoned. Right? So Peter is convinced, that the government has colluded with aliens and that they have send spys in form of spiders into this mental facility just to poison his food.  
I'm not too clear on why they would do that, but I'm not entirely sure that he is clear on that either. So that is the reason why he can't eat his food and why he is so thin. 

In the end I guess it's the same outcome. Only that anorexic people don't have to worry about getting kidnapped by a thousand spy-spiders one night. Which is really a very frightening thought – I get were Peter is coming from here.

Actually, the only reason I know all of this is because Peter won't shut up about it. His yelling startet right after Natashas deafening scream following the silent entrance of a little black spider in the corner of the room. I guess it was quite the innocent animal really and it didn't bother me so much – mainly because I'm sitting in the corner on the other side of the room. 

Anyway, the poor little thing has probably never heard of aliens or the government before today, but I'm sure it was very well informed by the time Bruce – he's got some kind of anger problem I think - squished it with his sneaker.  
He was probably hoping for Peter to stop accusing it and Natasha to stop screaming. 

I'm actually not really sure where Natasha is right now, because Amanda – another orderly – guided the hysteric girl out of the room just a few seconds ago. Nobody is doing anything about Peter who is still talking – but at least now he's whispering. Probably because the spider isn't here anymore, so he doesn't have to tell it that he knows what 'they' are up to – about aliens and the government and poison. You know.

But I'm kind of getting off track here.  
Back to the new guy. So, he enters the room hesitantly and I notice how awfully skinny he is – we have established that. And it's not as scary as it would be in the outside world, because it's something I have noticed about approximately half the kids in here.  
Not including me. I mean, in the outside world people would complain about how skinny I am and that I should eat more, but compared to the people here I might as well be fat. (Which I'm not and it's not true either because there is that guy for example and he is really fat. I mean enough so that that's the reason he's here. That – and the black mask he insists on wearing. Also, he calls himself Mr. Incredible and I have yet to find out his real name.)

Anyway. As I said: The first thing I noticed about the new guy was how thin he was. But that's not what captured my attention. What really got me was the fact that his aura was bright red and – the half rotten corpse, that followed him into the room.  
The corpse floated through the open door and then proceded to hang in the air, half a meter behind the new guys shoulder. 

It's not news to me to see things like that. But red auras aren't very common. And most people are not literally followed by death. Now, that corpse isn't really death personified or anything. I have seen enough others like him to at least know that. They still tend to freak me out. By appearing as a half rotten corpse for example. 

I don't like it. I have only seen a red aura of that shade once before and that was when I happened to witness someone being run over by a car. It was a girl on a bike and she somehow managed to cross paths with a big black car. Right before it hit her, her aura turned bright red. She didn't make it. So that colour kind of stands for death for me and the corpse following isn't exactly helping.

You know – I can see things. I mean, it's okay most of the time, it doesn't mean I'm creazy. The things I see are real enough, I'm just the only one who can see them. I guess I just have some sixth sense or something. I've had it since birth too. I stopped telling people years ago though, because _they_ thought I _was_ crazy.  
Now that I'm here I'm probably actually expected to be crazy. The thought makes me chuckle but I sober up right after because of the corpse that just entered. I'm not too fond of corpses. I mean – who is?

I also quite enjoyed the peace of almost-corpse-free-zone that they seem to have going on here.

Here. I guess I haven't really explained that one yet.  
This is a mental hospital. I have never been in one before so I don't really know if it is anything like other mental hospitals. They don't seem to have any kind of plan about who is on which floor with whom.  
There are three floors. Ours is the top floor. There are eight of us. Aside from me there are Natasha, Peter, Bruce, Barry, Logan, Charles and Tony. Now there is the new guy, so I guess there are nine of us now. Ten, if you count Mr. Floating-Corpse.

I have caught glimpes of some of the people on other floors – one of which is full with girls as skinny as Spider-Petey. But the only patient from another floor I have had close contact with is Mr. Incredible. And that is because he came up here yesterday yelling something about intruders before they brought him back to his own floor. It did freak out Peter. And Natasha a little.

 

I am not happy when the corpse starts to move by the time dinner rolls around. I'm not real surprised. But not happy either. The movements are sluggish, barely noticable at first. I have been looking for it ever since the duo showed up.  
I have seen it before over the course of the last few weeks. Disgusting, smelling corpses lying on the ground, turning into floating, less tangible and no longer smelling corpses, turning into slightly moving corpses and then into full fledged ghosts. Scared, angry, lost, screaming ghosts. They are everywhere now. I woke up one morning and the streets were littered with corpses. Three days in and the air was filled with ghosts.

No one could see them.

They did feel the effects though. I saw it on the news. There were strange power outages, reports of things floating through the air and an increase in virtually any kind of accident that involves electronics. There have been speculations about mass delusions and drugs and what not. I don't really know about the latest theories. By the fifth day I was barely able to uncurl from my bed.  
My foster mother thinking I was sick. Me knowing that it was the ghosts. 

They gave me a damn headache. They didn't let me sleep. Because they don't sleep and they don't stop complaining, asking, crying, shouting, demanding, screaming. They are lost, disoriented, scared, confused, angry. And I was right there with them.

They are so _loud_.  
It was almost bearable when I curled up in my bed and pressed my hands over my ears. It got a lot less bearable as time progressed.  
It got increasingly difficult to differentiate between what was part of what everybody could see, hear, feel and what wasn't. Difficult to not react to shouting ghosts in front of others who couldn't hear them. Difficult to simply keep eating when a grandma with only half a face suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Because they kept coming. And going through their transformation.  
I'm guessing that's still happening.

The foster home I was in was located in the dead center of the city. That just so happens to be where most ghosts seem to gather. I think they instinctively come to the places with a lot of people. I guess that is what you do when you are disoriented and looking for answers. Or angry and in the need of people to scream at. Or looking for lost family members – though most ghosts don't seem do remember their life as a … non-ghost. Pre-ghost?

I lived with it for a bit less than four weeks. Four weeks of days without sleep. Four weeks of headaches and increasing nausea. And that feeling that something was _terribly wrong_.  
In the end it got to much. I didn't exactly try to kill myself. I mean, that wasn't the objective. I really felt no desire to join the corpses and ghosts and I still don't.  
It was just … by the time the forth week came around, I could barely remember what quiet felt like. I hadn't been sleeping much for weeks, I was constantly trying to not react to the grossest of things. Hell, in public in couldn't even cover my ears from all the deafening noise. And I don't even want to think about the smell. In short, I was down to my last nerve.

Still. I didn't take the pills to kill myself. I simply took them to sleep. Which is what they are there for. But I didn't think. Over three weeks of sleep deprivation and the constant buzzing of freaking ghosts and I was no longer able to think clearly. All I saw was a possible escape to some peace. I don't remember stopping even for a second before downing the whole bottle.  
It was coincidence too that I happened to grab the strong stuff, that actually could do any harm. Not that it did. I mean, it did. But I didn't die. Obviously.

Taking them was the right desicion too. Because it did bring me what I needed. After weeks of being constantly stressed out, I finally found some semblance of peace. It's not really reassuring that it entailed being committed to a mental health facility, but it is peace nonetheless.

During my short stay here I have only caught glimpses of about five ghosts. And they were only passing through. Didn't even enter this floor either. And since the facility is located at the outskirts of town there aren't too many ghost outside too.  
So I'm good. At least I have been.

I find myself staring at the moving corpse while those thoughts flow through my head. Once I realise that, I force myself to look away. No point in getting caught while staring at seemingly thin air.  
Instead I let my eyes survey the room. Note all the other patients as well as Amanda and Phil who are on duty tonight.

Finally my gaze settles on another patient. Looking at him is fascinating.  
He is sitting on a chair in the corner by the window. His name is Barry Allen. I have never seen him move away from that chair. Or move much at all on his own, really.  
He sits there as unmovingly as it is possible for a breathing, living being. Sometimes he shifts the tiniest bit. He also blinks.  
Bruce told me he was hit by lightning. Peter thinks he was poisoned by the food here. No one else seems to have an opinion on the matter.

I opt for Bruce being right though. Not just because Peters suggestion is utterly ridiculous. But because it is still there. It's inside of him. He current is still in his body, running through him under his skin. Mostly I can see it crackling blue. But sometimes it enters his eyes and makes them sparkling red.  
That is something I'm positive everybody can see. At least I have caught Natasha staring at him after a red-eye-incident. And I'm pretty sure at one point Bobby – the third orderly who works on our floor – stopped and looked at him for a while before clearly deciding that he must have been mistaken.  
Maybe that is why Barry never moves.  
Maybe moving hurts.


	2. In which things go crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back.  
> Thank you so much for kudos and the comment. It means a lot!  
> This story is going to be longer that I thought, probably four or five chapters, it's a questionmark right now.  
> There is going to be a little more interaction between the characters this time and more information about everyone.  
> This isn't betaed and not my first language, so I hope it isn't too bad.  
> I hope you like it!

The week passes slowly. Dean's – that is the new guys name – corpse turns into a ghost by the end of the week.  
That is when things start to get weird.  
The first indication that something is up, is Dean's reaction to his stalker-ghost. The moment it regains full movement and finally its voice, I notice it. Dean can actually _see_ the guy.  
He tries to ignore the ghost but the way he completely avoids looking at it after the first time is a dead giveaway. Also the way he asks the ghost to _please leave him alone_ , when he thinks no one is close enough to hear.  
The ghost keeps following Dean though.

It is no longer a corpse and looks like a real boy now. A boy who can't be much older than I am – about fifteen – with black hair and bright eyes, speaking of intelligence and a fighting spirit. He is … actually the most civilized ghost I have encountered thus far. He doesn't scream or shout. He doesn't even talk all that much (although he does have a tendency to comment) but he mostly just follows Dean. With a slightly confused look on his face.

A few days pass by and I learn that Dean is here for much the same reason as I am. Although I'm the only one who knows that. Apparently he suddenly started seeing ghosts (I get the feeling he can't see the corpses) and it seems that he – unlike me – didn't keep it to himself. He is probably not as used to hiding stuff like that as I am. Seems to have slowly driven him insane and they sent him here before he could do something similar to what I did. He keeps scanning the rooms too. Probably making sure there are no ghosts here aside from his very own one.

We finally get to talk about it almost two weeks after Dean's entrance into my life. We find ourselves alone in the common room. A rare occurence that is attributed to a bad day for Peter and Bruce getting into a fight with Natasha. (That one was weird. I wasn't aware that Natasha is so very good at fighting. But she moved like an acrobat. A very deadly one. And Bruce – I _swear_ I could see his blood turn green under his skin. It was like there was something inside him, that desperately wanted _out_. They separated them quickly and who knows what they are doing right now.)  
Anyway. It leaves me alone with Dean – and ghost-boy – for the first time since I found out, Dean could actually see them too.

I pretty much keep to myself and I don't speak much. Mostly because I have learned that it is much easier to hide anything weird about myself if I don't accidentally talk about something that others can't see.  
That's the reason that Dean doesn't expect me to say anything when we find ourselves alone in a room. He startles when I break the silence in the common room. His head shoots up from the book he has been reading the second the last word leaves my mouth.  
“I can see them too you know.“  
Dean doesn't seem happy about my admission.  
“Look,“ he says, his voice frosty and looking annoyed “I know they aren't really there. So don't screw with me.“  
I shrink back from the anger in his voice and press myself a little harder into the armchair. My reaction makes him frown and look slightly guilty as well as immensely worried for my mental health. I try not to be offended.

“I do though,“ I manage to get out after a few seconds of silence “I can also see the one that keeps following you.“  
Deans eyes flicker to the ghost, who is currently hovering by the window and then back to me. He turns them into small slits as he takes in my appearance as if he were seeing me for the first time.  
“You are not fucking with me?“ he asks tentatively. There is something like … hope in his voice.  
I shake my head. “No, I'm not. The ghosts appeared about six weeks ago.“  
I don't tell him that they are corpses before that. For some weird reason, I don't want him to think I'm crazy. Funny.

Before Dean can react to that, his ghost comes flying across the room and only stops right in front of me. I shrink back as far as the armchair will allow and the boy gives a crooked grin.  
“Yeah, he can see me alright,“ he draws back a little and then continues unabashed, “Hi. My name is Jason.“  
My eyebrows shoot up at the sight of a semi-transparent right hand reaching out towards me as if for a handshake. The hand is drawn back before I can react and Jason smiles a little sheepishly.  
“Well, that's … I'm Sam. N-nice to meet you.“ _I guess_.  
I have honestly never met a ghost who introduced themselves to me before. I'm not sure what's the proper etiquette. Or if I should be pleased. Possibly scared?

Dean watches the exchange with big eyes. I can practically see something change inside his head. Some kind of realisation makes him go white as a sheet.  
“I'm not crazy,“ he whispers incredulously, which would have been funny if it weren't for the scared look in his eyes that is so obvious when he turns towards me a moment later. “That means there really _are_ ghosts invading earth at the moment.“  
To that I can simply shrug. I don't really know about the invading part. To me it sure didn't seem like there was some kind of plan behind any of this. They all just seemed to kind of _drift in_. But who knows. It's not like anyone has ever explained anything about the things I see. So most of the time I try to just roll with it.

“I don't know,“ I finally say, as the silence starts to stretch “All I know is that it wasn't like that before. Something must have happened. Not that I would know, really.“ I shrug again, appearing much calmer than I really feel about any of this.  
Dean and I must have had the same thought because we simultaneously turn towards Jason.  
The ghost mimics me and shrugs.  
„I don't know! There are about three thing that I know. And I don't even know how I know them,“ he declares. To me he looks incredibly pleased with himself. Although I have no idea why he should be.  
“And what is that?“ Dean demands, obviously for the first time actually listening to the ghost.  
“Well,“ Jason frowns, then continues, counting his fingers “My name is Jason Todd. I am only temporarily dead. And I'm here to protect you.“  
He grins as if he were expecting us to give him cake for that. Or maybe a round of applause. I think Dean's ghost might be crazy.

Whatever our reaction would have been to that, I will never know. Because that is the moment Bobby enters the room, followed by a slightly shivering Peter and an annoyed looking Tony.

We don't get another chance to talk like this anytime soon either. But over the next few days Dean and I share meaningfull glances. And a well kept secret. It's like our own little conspiracy.

That is untill it all goes to hell five days later.

It starts with a loud BANG.

We are all gathered in the common room. Natasha and Bruce are working on a puzzle. The two of then seem to have hit it off after their little fight a few days ago.  
Tony sits, watching them, while simultaneously reading some book about the advanced technologies in robotics and still somehow finding the time to mouth off to Phil.  
Peter has settled into an armchair he has draged right across the room to Barry's side, who is still not responding much, but seems to be listening quite contentedly to whatever tales Peter is currently spinning. He has had a stressful few days, being agitated all the time and shrinking back at any sudden movements. He has only started to quiet down this morning and I think we are all grateful for that.

Dean is sitting right next to me, something that has become habit during the last few days and we are both ignoring Jason who seems to be absolutely delighted to have two people to talk to now. Also, ever since Dean has aknowledged that the ghost is probably not a figment of his imagination, he has started to talk much more.  
He loves to follow some of the other patients around all day and then give a detailed recount of everything to us later on. Just yesterday he picked Bobby as a target. He came back to us all worked up, spluttering about crosses, holy water, knives and guns and telling us to be careful. That, combined with his inexplicable belief of being temporarily dead makes me wonder if the mental facility is the place he _should_ be in the first place. And not just because he is here to protect Dean.  
A crazy ghost in a crazy house and me being able to see – and more importantly _hear_ \- it. What could be worse?

Tuning out Jason – who is still talking about Bobby's supposed armory of weapons – I watch Logan who is fussing over Charles.  
When I first got here, I was kind of terrified of Logan. He is a feral looking kid with a habit of barring his teeth to back it up. He and Charles arrived around the same time I did and Logan kept talking about mutants, an attack and being shrunk – or deaged, if that's a thing. He also kept mumbling about his _claws_ not being there. He has calmed down since though and has stopped talking about it. But I still sometimes catch him staring at his knuckles. He keeps close to Charles and is fiercely protective of him. That has gotten better too. In the beginning he would snarl and growl at anybody who came within arms length of Charles. By the time that stopped, no one even tryed anymore.  
Charles is a quiet kid, who seems to trust Logan. Even though he has lost his memories. He listens to the things Logan tells him – like them being way older than they are currently, both mutants and very old friends – as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He seems to like sitting in his wheelchair and watching everything around him in a way, that is just a bit too attentive.  
He creeps me out a little. To be fair, that is not really his fault. It's more Logan's insistance about Charles being a telepath – the world's strongest telepath actually – and that he will get his gift back eventually. Charles says he can't hear any voices inside his head beside his own and he seems immensely pleased by that.  
A little too pleased for someone who is supposed to have forgotten everything and therefore not believe in something like that.  
But that's just my opinion.

What really gets to me though is the fact that what I can see actually backs up Logan's claims. I have mentioned auras before and Logan's and Charles's auras are definitely different. There is not just something _wrong_ with them, they are also way too layered for teenagers, closer to the way Bobby's looks. And Bobby could be my grandfather.  
It took me a while to get behind what makes them look so wrong, but by now I have figured out that there are two things. One is, that something seems to hold them back, like there is some kind of invisible rope around their whole beings, suffocating parts of them. And the other is a kind of shine to their auras, that I have seen once or twice in auras before. It is something normal people don't have and I find myself somehow believing Logan's story. Despite the fact that it is utterly ridiculous and that me even considering the possibility it might me the truth probably means I really _really_ belong here.

I'm pondering this when suddenly something goes _bang!_ and the world goes quiet for a moment.

 

Something is wrong. Very very wrong. Every part of my body screams at me to run. To run run run and to not stop until I collapse and then run some more and hide under some bed, locking each and every door and stop _breathing_ so that no one can find me.  
The feeling of danger and dread crawls over my skin like an army of ants and it is everything I can do to _stay where I am_.  
The spell is somewhat broken when Bobby starts to curse.

Logan's “What happened?!“ mixes with Jason's „What the fuck!“ and the others follow suit, talking over one another while my body jolts and then starts to tremble. I finally give up and in to the urge to slide down and roll under the low table. I would choose the sofa, but I'm to big for that.

„Quiet down people, please!“ Phil's voice rises above anyone elses and he sounds calm enough to have the desired effect. The others stop speaking for a moment and turn their attention to Phil. I risk a glance at him from under the table and watch as he turns to Peter who is the only one still speaking and currently talking himself into hysteria.  
„Oh my god, oh my god, they found me. They are going to get me and take me and they … they will … oh _god_ they will...“ he hiccups, gasping for air and stumbling over his own words while rocking back and forth next to a Barry who looks way more concerned and _present_ than I have ever seen him.  
Phil approaches Peter, his palm raised in a calming gesture. „Shhh, Peter. Peter! You're okay. You are safe here. It is not them, no one is coming to get you. Calm down Peter. He is never going to get you again.“

The attention in the room shifts when Bobby clears his throat. My body is still trembling and the need to _run_ hasn't subsided. It takes a moment for Phil's words to really register. Is he simply indulging the boy or has something actually _happened_ to Peter before. Is his story not simple delusion?

What the hell is going on here? First the ghosts appearing out of nowhere, then Dean seeing them too, Natasha and Bruce fighting like damn martial arts experts, Barry's lightning filled body and Logan and Charles with their auras speaking of an age they haven't even reached yet. And now this. Phil practically admitting that Peter's delusions aren't actually delusions but closer to reality. This is crazy. Absolutely _crazy_.  
And I still can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that we are in danger and we really, really need to _get out of here_!

I try to calm down and focus on Bobby. The world has shifted a little. The colors don't seem quite right anymore. And there is something in the air … I would have thought I finally _have_ gone crazy, if the others weren't reacting to it too. True, none of them seem to be as affected as I am, they don't seem to fight the overwhelming urge to run and hide, but Logan is standing a little closer to Charles. Natasha, Bruce and even Tony have moved together as if to find protection in one another. And Dean has followed me, sliding down from the sofa and curling up on the floor, only a few inches away from the table, his hand moving out towards me. I reach out, squeezing his fingers and find myself relaxing a little bit.

“I'm going to check what that was, so please stay calm while I'm gone,“ Bobby announces. His steady voice grounding me to reality and washing away some of the irrational fear that has come over me.  
Still, there is an edge to his words, that indicate something _is_ wrong. That wasn't a simple 'bang' from something falling or a car misfiring. It wasn't even a gunshot. The sound had something otherworldly. The way it resonated inside my head, the way it had seemed to be so close and at the same time so far away. This whole situation is terrifying. And I don't know why.

I watch warily as Bobby walks to the door and opens it. He disappears down the hall and I suddenly find myself face to face with a ghost.  
“Be careful,“ the boy hisses, “Something is going on, I can feel it. And I have told you about Bobby before. The man is not a normal orderly. I bet he isn't an orderly at all. Who knows where he is really going right now. Perhaps he is getting a gun,“ the ghosts stops, considering us, “Maybe you better stay there. It might be safer...“  
He trails of when Phil turns back around to us. Peter seems to have calmed down and is curling in on himself, arms protectively wrapped around his Torso. Mirroring Dean.  
I feel a little pang of pleasant surprise at Barry's hand slowly and carefully rubbing over Peter's arm. The feeling vanishes and leaves behind the dread that _won't leave_.

“Are you guys okay?“ Phil asks, his gaze settling on Dean and whatever is visible of me from where he is standing, “Sam? Are you alright?“  
He moves to come towards us but stops instantly when I fail to cover up the subsequential flinch.  
I feel so damn edgy, ready to bolt at a moments notice, it is incredibly difficult to stay put. My heart is pounding in my chest like the thunder of a thousand horses and there is a tenseness in my body I so desperately want to shake, but the adrenaline that courses through my veins won't let me.  
I honestly think that Dean's hand in mine might be the only thing currently keeping me from running. Well, him and the way Jason protectively positions himself between Phil and us. Of course Phil doesn't know that and Jason is a _ghost_ , so what can he do really, but somehow it helps.

“We are fine here,“ Dean assures Phil, gripping my hand a little tighter and straightening, as if to say that he is ready to protect me just the way Jason is. The gesture makes my heart feel lighter, especially since I can practically feel the fear and confusion coming from Dean in waves.  
Actually, I can feel the fear and confusion coming from everyone in the room. It is something that sometimes leaks from the auras of people, but right know the feeling is stronger than ever before. I shiver underneeth their combined worry and tenseness.  
It also means that I can feel – and see, of course – how tense and worried Phil really is. Although he is doing a pretty decent job of covering it up.

„Good. The rest of you?“ Phil's eyes travel through the room, taking in each and every one of us and giving a small, reassuring smile.  
None of us feel really reassured though. Something is not right, and we can all feel it.


End file.
